Empty Bottles
by Tibbins
Summary: A continuation from the end of 13x03. Contains spoilers. How the rest of that night goes for Dean. Rated T for self-destructive behaviour. Heavily implied Destiel.


**Hey guys, so after watching that last episode, it looks like we're gonna get Cas back soon! Yaay! But because I'm an evil piece of trash I kinda wanna watch Dean spiral a bit more before that beautiful reunion and because I don't know whether or not the show will decide to do that, I decided to write this.**

 **It's a continuation from the end of the last episode (because, let's face it, the argument didn't end when the camera went to Jack) featuring self destructive Dean.**

 **I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters. If I did, Destiel would have been officially canon long, long ago. (I don't own Led Zeppelin either.)**

 **This story is definitely intended as Destiel, but in a more subtle way that I feel is a bit truer to the Dean we have now, (the one maybe starting to admit his true feelings?!) So I guess if you're not a shipper and you squint, you might be able to ignore it.**

 **Enjoy ^_^**

* * *

"How was it? Uh, Jodie told me about Missouri." Sam was sat at the table when Dean walked in, his tone suggested a 'talk' but Dean was decidedly not in the mood. The fact that Sam's back was turned to him was another warning sign. Dramatic as always.

"Yeah, just another day at the office," he said, pausing in the doorway. If he got the topic out of the way he could go to his room and drink himself blind. He'd bought a bottle of scotch on the way home and another half-dozen bottles of beer. He'd save Sam the trouble of trying to talk to him after he'd drunk the lot. "How's the kid? He go darkside yet?" He could almost picture the exasperation on Sam's face and would have smirked if he hadn't been so bone-tired.

"Nope."

For someone who clearly wanted to talk, he sure wasn't saying much. Dean almost rolled his eyes as Sam turned in his chair to face him. "He's, uh, he's pretty messed up though," he said, as though that meant something significant.

"You're telling me."

And there was the huff that suggested Lucifer's kid would be the topic of conversation. Dandy.

"No, Dean, he's messed up _because_ of you."

Dean just met his brother's eyes. He wasn't confused at the statement, he didn't care enough to be confused.

"Dean," Sam slapped down the plastic ring he was fiddling with onto the table, like a goddamn teacher, "you said you'd kill him."

Dean did roll his eyes at that, he looked away, down the corridor towards the room where he'd caught the kid stabbing himself. It had been a strange feeling walking in on that, stopping it. He hadn't cared about the kid's pain, really. It had been more where the pain had been coming from. If he was truly honest with himself, he was sorry that he hadn't been holding the blade.

"It wasn't exactly like that."

"Then how exactly was it?" Sam's tone was so judgemental that it was even more infuriating that the words he said.

"I told him the truth," he said, heatedly, "see, you think you can use this freak. But I know how this ends, and it ends bad."

"I didn't."

"What?"

"I didn't end bad. When I was the 'freak'," Sam stood, preparing himself for a fight, "when I was drinking demon blood."

This was personal, Dean realised, a little too late. To Sam, this was the attack he had expected for over a decade, how long had he been stewing at the table before Dean had walked in?

"Come on, man, that's totally different."

"Was it? Because you could've put a bullet in me. Dad _told you_ to put a bullet in me but you didn't, you saved me! So help me save him."

"You deserved to be saved, he doesn't." That wasn't the whole truth of course, but Dean would go to Hell again before he told Sam just how deep John Winchester's initial conditioning went. Look after Sammy, no matter what, keep him safe. He could no more have put a bullet in Sam than he could fly. It wasn't really about deserve, although Sam was a better man than him by far, it was instinct, pure and simple. He didn't have that instinct with the kid.

"Yes, he does, Dean, of course he does." Sam was desperate, staring at his brother with those storm coloured eyes, begging. Years ago, hell, a month ago that look would have tugged at his heartstrings, made him pause and try and look at it from Sam's point of view. Now, he felt nothing but anger.

"Look, I know you think that you can use him as some sort of an inter-dimensional can opener and that's fine. But don't act like you care about him because you only care about what he can do for you. So if you wanna pretend, that's fine, but me? I can hardly look at the kid 'cause when I do, all I see is everybody we've lost!"

There they were again, flashing before his eyes. Crowley turning the blade on himself, Missouri's smiling face on the news, Mary vanishing through the rift, and Cas, eyes bleeding grace as the blade pierced his chest, the look of surprise on his face as he fell, the shadows of his wings staining the ground.

"Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer, that's not on Jack."

"And what about Cas?"

"What about Cas?"

"He manipulated him, he made him promises, said 'paradise on Earth' and Cas bought it. And you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can't!" Every time he closed his eyes he saw Cas' face, streaming blinding light, mouth wide, blood on the tip of the angel blade protruding from his torso. Even worse was when Dean saw the split second before all that, the eyes that had just turned on Dean, the lips that had been about to crack a joke. Paradise on Earth his ass.

Sam paused for only a moment, pain flashing across his own features.

"I haven't forgotten, Dean. We brought Jack here because it's what Cas would have wanted."

"No, Sam. You brought him here to try and get mom back. I brought him here so he'd be easier to get to when I find a way to kill him. Cas wasn't a part of that decision."

"So you're just going to ignore Cas' feeling in this?"

"He doesn't _have_ feeling in this, Sam. He's dead. He's not around to have feelings."

"Look, Dean, I know you're hurting. I know you miss him-"

"Don't." Dean held up a warning finger. He hadn't wanted to talk in the first place and he especially didn't want to talk about this.

Sam's voice softened, "I just think that you're taking all your hurt out on a kid."

" _Lucifer's_ kid."

"A _kid_. A kid that's alone and experiencing the world for the first time and is questioning his role in all of this. A kid who desperately wants to do the right thing, he just doesn't know how."

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare ty and compare that _thing_ to Cas."

Sam's look turned pitying at whatever he saw in his brother's eyes. As though he was the only one with the answer, as if he alone knew the _right_ thing to do and Dean was just too stubborn to admit it to himself. Dean hated that superiority in his brother, more now than he ever had.

"You don't see how similar they are? Or maybe you do and that's why you hate Jack so much?"

"They're nothing alike."

"No?"

"I'm not talking about this." Dean said abruptly, turning to leave. He didn't want to think about all the ways that Cas and the kid differed. From the way he had sought the easy way out to the way he just _stayed_. Like he was happy for Sam and Dean to just decide his future for him. Cas had always had an opinion, his own rules and his own agenda. This kid? It was unnerving how amenable he seemed.

"The burgers? The cartoons? Hell, even the way he talks sometimes. It's exactly like Cas was in the beginning, back when he was trying to figure out metaphors."

Dean turned back, he knew he shouldn't. The scotch was calling him from his inside pocket, he should just go to his room and forget about this conversation. He didn't need this, he didn't need a reminder of the way Cas talked, the sound of his voice, the confused scrunch of his nose when he was confronted with a new aspect of humanity. But he turned back to his brother and saw the fond smile on his face, eyes bright and kind. He practically had 'I CARE' stamped on his forehead. It was the smile that hurt the most.

"Wow. And you think _I'm_ the one betraying Cas?" He didn't even have the energy to raise his voice. He was drained; he'd let Missouri die and probably created another Hunter in the process, another person damned to this life. How many more people were going to suffer because of him?

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not trying to replace him. That's worse. You can't just pick up some 3 day old teenager and make him one of us. He's not one of us. He's not Cas."

"I never said he-"

"Yeah, you did. You know, Cas _earned_ his spot on Team Free Will. All the crap we've been through, he's always been there, he always tried. Even if he was wrong, or we were. He always came back to us. The kid? You just pulled him out of some goddamn jail cell and decided that he's the new Cas because he likes cheeseburgers? Screw you."

There was so much venom in the last two words that Sam actually took half a step back before retorting. Dean felt a sick sort of satisfaction in the way his eyes widened.

"You haven't exactly given him the chance to prove himself. Cas wasn't a friend when we first met him either, Dean. But he wanted to be good, just like Jack does."

"I cannot begin to tell you how much I don't care."

Sam opened his mouth to say something else but Dean was done. He left Sam standing there, staring after him. His steps stayed steady though he wanted to get to his room as quickly as possible. He didn't feel comfortable in the halls anymore. Not now the kid was here, even if he stuck to his own place most of the time, Sam had made it clear to him that he was welcome to wander around and Dean didn't want to be there when he chose to explore. Only his room felt private.

He'd pulled out the bottle before he even shut the door behind him. Taking one long swig of the stuff and exhaling at the familiar burn that trailed halfway down his chest he flung himself onto the bed and pulled on his headphones. He pressed play on the iPod and stared at the wall, trying to lose himself in the music and not think about anything else. He focused on a dent in the far wall where he had once thrown a lamp and worked to block out everything else. There was nothing in the world but the music, that dent and the bottle of scotch. He took another drink, long and deep, gulping it down as though the cheap alcohol would cleanse him somehow, burn away everything in him and make him someone else. He snorted at that and wiped his mouth. It wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't work. He'd tried drinking himself clean before. It never worked. It didn't even feel good. Every time he unscrewed the lid felt like another failure, he never drank like this when he wanted to celebrate. He liked the burn all the same.

Another song began and Dean scrambled for the iPod, his fingers fumbling a little on the table, he held it up and willed his eyes to focus on the title, even though he knew all the words by heart. He stared at the blurry black squiggles until they re-formed into the words 'Ramble on – Led Zeppelin'. Dean held his thumb over the 'skip' button, but hesitated.

 _xxx_

" _It's a gift, you keep those," he said, holding out the tape between his fingers, Cas had taken it back gratefully. It was an acceptance to the apology the angel had made walking into the room, sadness radiating from every goddamn pore. He turned to leave but Dean called him back, he had to explain-_

 _xxx_

Dean pressed the button. It was already halfway through the song but he didn't want to remember any more, or risk triggering other memories. He raised the bottle to his lips but only a small trickle came out. He stared at it, it took him a few seconds to realise that it was empty, how long had he been there? He placed it over the side of the bed where it clinked against the rest. Now, where had he put that beer? He must have left it in the car, he didn't remember carrying it into the bunker itself. Groaning, Dean rolled off the bed, iPod clattering to the floor, he yanked off the headphones and threw them down. He hoped Sam wasn't still in the war room.

He was only a little unsteady as he made his way to the door. He was proud of that. He made his way to the war room and up the stairs. Sam wasn't there, or if he was, he wasn't in Dean's direct line of sight. He unlocked Baby and almost fell into the backseat, groping for the smooth glass of the bottles. He found it after a moment and pulled the pack up by it's cardboard handle.

"Are you alright?" a small voice asked, he turned his head to see the kid, frowning under his floppy hair. Dean just grunted and settled himself upright in the seat.

"Gettin' a beer," he said, holding up the six pack.

"Castiel's in a dark place."

Dean grunted again, pulling one bottle free of the rest and twisting off the top. He heard the satisfying hiss of the gas escaping and he took a sip.

"I thought you'd want to know," the boy bit his lip, making anxious glances between Dean and the open entrance to the bunker, as though making sure Sam was in shouting distance.

"Get back inside."

"I think he heard me."

"I used to think so, too."

"What?"

"Nothing."

The kid paused a moment, as if puzzling over the words. Dean took the opportunity to drink.

"I don't understand."

"Go ask Sam."

Dean glanced at the boy, who didn't move. He sighed.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to understand."

"Yeah, well. I'm drunk so I don't understand much right now."

"That makes sense."

"Go talk to Sam if you want someone to talk you through the finer points of humanity," Dean said, waving his hand in dismissal. Not that he really expected the kid to go. He seemed to have a reason for tormenting him.

"Is that what happened with Castiel? He went to Sam when you got drunk?"

Dean snorted.

"I'm not gonna talk about him with you. You got Cas killed, whether you meant to or not. It doesn't matter. He's dead."

"It's dark, where he is," the boy continued. Dean drained the first bottle and picked out another, dropping the empty one by his feet. He gripped hard on the top as he twisted and his hand came away with a stinging imprint of the ridges.

"Probably."

"You don't want to save him?"

"I can't. He was doomed the moment he met me."

 _xxx_

" _When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!"_

 _xxx_

Dean shook his head and took another gulp of beer. It was bitter and smooth and it went down too easy. He wished he had more scotch.

"But we could get him out of that dark place."

"You don't know me, kid. You don't know how many times I've brought people back. Spells, summoning Death, begging the right people. I've made deals with reapers, angels, archangels, demons, witches, horsemen of the damn apocalypse. I've exchanged lives and souls and blood and I've prayed. Dammit but I've prayed until my brain hurt. Now? Crowley's dead, the one demon left who might actually have made that deal; Rowena, a witch who probably could have figured something out, also dead. Gadreel killed Kevin because of that particular deal and now he's dead too. Gabriel's the only archangel that might have done me a solid but no, he's dead. Cas killed Billie for the last deal we made, I killed Death with his own damn scythe and God just straight up ain't listening. All these years, all the people we've met, all the higher powers and the magic and the miracles. All we have to show for it are the bodies we've left behind. Ironic, don'tcha think? There's no one left to beg. No leads to follow. Mom, Sam thinks you're the answer to that one. He thinks you can re-open that rift and get her back if Lucifer didn't kill her immediately, on principle. So maybe there's a chance for her, but I won't waste my hope on it."

With that, he hauled himself out of Baby's backseat, pulling the pack of beer with him. He walked past the boy, who's mouth was gaping, and trudged back down the stairs.

"Kid's outside, by the way," he called to the bunker at large, there was an answering scuffle and Sam poked his head round the door.

"What?"

"Kid. By the car, spouting some crap about Cas."

Sam emerged fully, glancing up at the open door.

"Dean, are you drunk?"

"You're damn straight." He took another swig of the beer. This one was almost drained too. He finished the job and set it on the table, along with the rest, pulling out the third of the pack. He held it out to Sam who took it from him and set it down unopened. Dean shrugged and swiped it back, flicking the top aside and downing a third of the bottle in one pull. Sam frowned, that disapproving frown he did when Dean did something that he would deem 'self-destructive'. The one that made his lips purse like he'd just sucked on a lemon. But the open door was the more immediate problem, so he went to retrieve Jack.

Dean didn't count how long they were gone but it was at least until he had another full bottle in his hand. The room was definitely fuzzy at the edges now and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand up again. But there were only two more beers left. Might as well go for gold.

Blurry voices and echoing footsteps announced their return. Sam ushered the kid in like a mother duck, speaking softly and sending him off to his room with a few static-y words.

Then there was a thump as Sam took the chair opposite him, hands clasped upright, his chin resting on them.

"You look like a goddamn guidance counsellor," Dean slurred.

"Jack told me what just happened. Is that why you've been acting like this? Because you don't think there's a way to get Mom and Cas back?"

"Thought that was obvious."

"I wasn't sure."

"Whassit matter?"

"Jack really thinks there's a way, Dean. He said he saw Cas in this dark place, that he tried to speak to him. He was okay."

"He's ashes, Sammy. I tied his legs up and covered him with gas'line and threw the fire at him. We watched him burn."

"It wouldn't be the first time we thought he was dead."

Dean managed a half smile. Some leftover beer dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it absently. "First time we saw his wings after, though. You see them? Broken wings. Not many feathers left. He got like that because of us."

"What if Jack's right and we _can_ save him?"

"Tell me how. I'll do it. Find me a demon that'll bargain and I'll make the trade. Wouldn't need to think about it. Wouldn't even ask for a year."

Sam looked disturbed at that. More so than when he'd been yelling at him.

"You're really drunk."

"But I ain't lyin'."

"I've never seen you like this. Why have you given up? I thought you'd rage, fight, work yourself into the ground looking for something, _anything_ to get Mom and Cas back. Since when were _you_ the one to admit defeat?"

"I'm fresh out of fight." Dean tipped the bottle back and drained it, "and I'm almost out of beer," he reached for the last bottle but Sam was quicker and jerked it out of reach. Dean scowled but sat back. He still wasn't convinced he could stand if he tried.

"I don't understand."

"You sound like the kid." Dean said, jerking his thumb in the approximate direction of Jack's room.

"Why aren't you tearing apart the world looking for them?"

"What good did us tearing apart the world ever do anyone? Why did we think we could have this? You, me, mom and Cas? When did we start thinking we could have something good? When did I start thinking I _deserved_ it?"

Sam said nothing, he only looked at his brother, expression unreadable, confusing. Dean shook his head and the room tilted ominously.

"I lost mom the minute she came back, you know? It's stupid and childish but she wasn't who I thought she was. She wasn't the mom I grew up missing, wishing for, when dad was gone too long or got angry. She was someone I had to learn how to love again. And that was fine. She was my mom. But she wasn't just my mom anymore. She was yours too. And seeing you two together… I guess it's selfish but she'd always been mine. You never remembered her, and dad…" He trailed off. He might be drunk but something more instinctual than common sense stopped him from telling Sam just how angry John could get when Dean had done something stupid that put Sammy in danger.

Sam's jaw clenched. He clearly didn't like what Dean was saying.

"It's stupid. And I want to get her back, I do. And if the kid can do it, I'll help. I'll do anything. But I can't fight for her on the off chance."

Sam nodded as though he understood, but his brow was still deeply furrowed.

"And Cas?" he said.

 _xxx_

" _Where's the angel?" Dean yelled, a challenge he screamed to the whole of Purgatory. Each monster he faced got confronted with that question before they died, again. He tore through that place, paving a trail in black blood and vampire heads. His next victim stalked out of the trees, thinking_ him _the prey. "Where's the angel?"_

 _xxx_

Dean shook himself.

"We always did share a 'more profound bond'." He said, heavily. Pushing against the table to force himself to stand. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought, until he tried to move. "I wasn't gonna mention it."

Sam's smile was there and gone in a blink. He stood and took one of Dean's arms, guiding it around his shoulders. Step by careful step, they headed in the direction of Dean's room.

"So you think that because you care about him, you can't get him back? That's crap, Dean, the world doesn't work like that."

 _xxx_

" _Good things do happen, Dean," the angel said, eyes as blue as the sky, confused by his hostility. Maybe he had expected adoration, maybe he hadn't expected anything._

" _Not in my experience." He'd recently crawled from his own grave, out of Hell, away from the pain he'd inflicted, away from the only place he could pay for it. His suspicion was justified._

" _What's the matter?" Those blue, blue eyes bored into him, as though they saw him, saw everything he'd ever done, everything he'd been, and there was no hatred in that gaze, only curiosity. "You don't think you deserve to be saved?"_

 _xxx_

"Tell that to the world."

"We'll find a way, we always do," Sam insisted, patiently stopping with him while Dean took a few seconds to reorient himself.

"We've got no more favours to call in. No one left who can help us. We killed them all, Sam. Every one. Everyone who ever tried to help, to stand with us. They ended up dead because of it. I just didn't think. I shoulda known. Cas was with us long enough that I started to think, maybe, he was like us. In the eye of the storm."

 _xxx_

" _Everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me."_

 _xxx_

"So he deserved it for getting close? Is that what you're saying?"

"No." He said it as firmly as he could, though his voice wobbled.

"Then, what?"

"Maybe _I_ deserve it. For letting him get close. I said, in confession-" Dean stopped again and took a few quick breaths. Because of the alcohol or because of the conversation, he couldn't tell. He wanted that last beer but when he said as much, Sam just tugged him on and he wasn't in a position to make it back to the war room on his own. Sam pushed open the door to his room and carefully maneuvered him onto the bed, pulling out the headphones and the iPod from underneath him and placing them on the bedside table. Dean lay down on his side, letting Sam pull his boots off and set them down, listening as his brother rummaged around for something.

"I did pray you know. When you said we could try praying."

"You told me."

"It took you a day to think of it. To think of Chuck. That he might help. I prayed at that stupid ass pirate joint. I begged him. I really tried. I prayed so hard I though he _had_ to do something, he had to feel how hard I was praying."

"Maybe he did." Sam returned with a blanket which he patted down over Dean.

Dean snorted, and was surprised to find that a few tears were leaking from his eyes.

"Cas was the only one who listened to my prayers," he said, before Sam turned out the light and the room went black.

* * *

 **So there you go, a little more spiraling Dean.**

 **I kinda wrote most of the dialogue on my phone, just before going to sleep and thought I could make a fic out of it, there were just a few ideas I felt it really important to get in there: how Dean isn't acting the way he usually does when he loses someone, he's lost all motivation to try and get them back, whatever the cost, and his strained relationship with Mary. I kinda wanted to get across the change from the earlier seasons when Dean thought the world of his mum and put her on a pedestal, comparing that with his heartbreaking 'I hate you' speech and I had the idea that there was so much disappointment there, and a little rejection too.**

 **I hope I got these ideas across okay.**

 **What did you think? Feedback is always welcome and appreciated, good or bad.**

 **I hope you liked it but if not, a few notes about why are always super helpful with my writing ^_^**

 **I wish you all luck for whatever the next episode brings.**

 **Love Tibbins xx**


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